


What Are We Looking At?

by framby



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward meeting, M/M, gallery opening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:43:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/framby/pseuds/framby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is forced to attend an art gallery opening. It could've been a good idea, except that he never went to one, he has no idea what he is supposed to see on the painting and there is a dark and broody man coming over to talk to him. What a perfect night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are We Looking At?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazelandglasz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/gifts).



Stiles stands in front of one of the painting, stiffs in his suit and definitely out of his element. He tries to tilt his head to the left, then to the right, he squints his eyes, then close one for good measure. But nothing. The movies have failed him, this is not helping at all.

It’s the 31 of December, in few hours it will be New Year and Stile is in a vast white room with paintings hanging on the walls. It’s a gallery opening, but it’s not as fancy as it sounds like. He’s been guilt into coming because Cora, the artist, gave him hell for the shitty gift he bought her this year for Chrismukkah. He is also here because he is an awesome best friend and a very supportive one. This is Cora first time showing her work, it’s her big break apparently.

Hence why Stiles is standing in a dark suit, in a very cold room, with lots of people he doesn’t know and who aren’t wearing suits, with a glass of champagne in his hand. He is hungry, cold and feels utterly stupid . He overheard a discussion a few minutes ago, two girls with blue and purple hair talking about the symbolism behind Cora’s work and how deep it touched their soul. Stiles is pretty sure that right now the only thing touching his soul is the alcohol.

“This is bullshit.” Stiles mutters, rolling his eyes to himself, still not getting what the art he is looking at is supposed to represent. Cora is very much into abstract art. Obviously, Stiles isn’t.

“This is not exactly how I would describe the artist ‘s work.” Stiles spins around, the voice coming from behind him. He bites his lips and blushes profusely at being overheard, because he is for support, not to destroy Cora’s work.

“I, uh, well… it’s definitely not what I meant. Cora’s work is amazing and she is really talented and I mean, just look at the… hum, colors.” Stiles’s hand is flying in the air, waving approximatively toward the painting as he stumbles over words. Maybe because the man standing in front of him is ridiculously attractive, probably because of the alcohol, mainly because of the shame though.

The man takes a few steps forward, and stands right next to Stiles, his eyes fixes on the art on the wall. He is standing straight, with his hands behind him and Stiles tries to mirror him. They stand there, next to each other, facing the masterpiece. Stiles’ eyes keep coming back to the stranger, to his face. His features are sharp, his eyes are dark and yeah okay, Stiles also notices the muscles under the burgundy henley, but what Stiles can’t help but staring at is the stubble. He wants to reach out and touch it, licks it, bites the man’s jaw and rubs his cheek against it.

Stiles stops himself before the man notices his creepy staring and turns his gaze back to the painting.

“What do you see?” Stiles wonders, because if he is going to stand next to someone, might as well get some insight about what is happening on the wall.

“Death.” Is the man’s answer and Stiles’s head snaps to him, his nose scrunching up in confusion.

“Man, that’s kind of dark.” Stiles looks between the painting and the man, then back at the painting.

“She mainly used black and grey.”

“Black for death. Ground breaking.” Stiles drinks up the rest of his champagne and turns back to the buffet.

“Did you just try to impersonate Miranda Priestly?” This stops Stiles while on his way to his next glass of champagne. He turns and goes back to the standing man. Stiles stops right next to him but instead of facing the painting Stiles is facing the man’s side. And before Stiles can say anything else the man turns his head to look at him.

“I have no idea what I’m looking at.” Stiles smiles and then burst out of laughers because the man is looking even more confuse than he was few minutes ago, but also guiltier and there is a small smile creeping on his face and it’s the funniest thing that Stiles has seen all night.

“Finally.” Stiles says between two fit of laughers, earning a few glares from the too-hipster-to-make-noise people around him.

“I’m Derek, by the way.”

“Stiles.” They shake hands and linger a little too long, enough to make it awkward. Stiles looks down at his empty cup, then back at the table. “So Derek, how about we take this lovely bottle of champagne over there and ditch this lovely but oh so boring party?”

“Meet you outside in five.” Derek whispers into Stiles’s ears, making him shiver, and then walks in the complete opposite direction of the exit. Stiles watches him disappear, goose bumps all over his body, then he goes straight to the buffet, snatches the bottle and heads outside. He doesn’t wait long before Derek appears with a tray full of food and a blanket.

“Come on.” Derek put his hand on the small of Stiles’s back, leading him to the stairs and then toward the rooftop.

They only stop kissing when it’s time for the countdown to midnight.

**Author's Note:**

> wanna say hello: [tumblr](http://framby.tumblr.com/)


End file.
